This boob taught me a lesson...
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Carpeted. . .
The two drivers were carpeted and had the Riot Act read to them, But, to be fair, they had worked for us eight and five years respectively and never before been guilty of any misdemeanour — to the vehicle anyway — and I decided to investigate further before gettig out the chopper.
First, I made arrangements to lo a day's work with the vehicle; always, I feel, the best way to iettle arguments about poor vrformance of either man or machine. On such occasions I approach any sort of vehicle test with an open mind. To think about it beforehand gives me a biased result because I find myself feeding preconceived notions into the final assessment.
So I set off on the regular run with the vehicle and had the shift man riding with me to make sure I followed the rules. Sure enough, after only 10 miles it was apparent that the vehicle was well down on performance. I finished the round trip running back empty and checked the fuel consumption. For a vehicle that should turn in between 7.5 to 8.5 it showed an appalling 5.2 mpg.
'Had a go at pumps'
I went back to base in my car and reflected on what had already been done. True, the drivers had been having a go at the pumps we had fitted, but I thought, lumbered with such an awful beast as it had turned out to be, I might well be inclined to do something like that myself. The next morning I organised a replacement vehicle for the 2 to 10 shift and instructed the driver to bring the offender in, I now went right back through the records and turned up some quite shattering information.
Right up to the time the vehicle had been based at its present location it had shown —
like most of its sisters a• consistent 8mpg. After only three months, there appeared in the records the first replacement
pump which had resulted from continuous complaints of "bad pulling", Something else nagged at my mind, though, something not in any way connected with engines. The vehicle had since it arrived at this particular base had no fewer than seven road springs fitted. And, when I checked through the cost of these replacements, I could easily determine that the replacements were certainly not supplied by the factory.
The vehicle duly arrived at my garage and I went straight to the tyres. The tread-ribs were feathered in every direction and in spite of a complaint from the shop floor — "But, guy, it's in for fuel trouble" — I ordered a drop-test on the axles.
It turned out that our local repairer had found itself a rather inaccurate blacksmith who made jolly good spring leaves but could not read a rule. After doing the drop test we measured all the springs and found the fixed-eye to axle-centre varying up to 3/4in in both directions so it would have been possible to have the alignment out by up to 11/2in.
Eight new springs were fitted and the steering alignment, which had been adjusted in an effort to correct tyre wear was reset.
Performance was restored to its former level without further attention to the fuel pump, and the drivers, vindicated and armed with a tale that no other driver would believe, went back to their daily grind.
I was not finished, however. Having seen the effects of such an unlikely boob I got my field fleet. checking the rest of the
le
The moral of the story, and one I watch extremely carefully now I have my own outfit, is: factory components may be a little more expensive but are not likely to let you down. And if they do not prove to be up to standard, there are channels through which you can retrieve some of the costs involved.
I learned on that day, and have remembered ever since, the value of having all axles aiming for one destination. checking the rest of the